


Bleak House

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Depressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Sad Ending, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What if Will did die in the Upside Down?





	Bleak House

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This work with deals with suicide.
> 
> Don't usually put songs to my stories but Don't Cry by Guns N' Roses fits this perfectly in my opinion.

Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve sat on the couch. It was big enough that the three weren't touching but small enough to make things awkward. They were quiet as they waited, their minds' far too preoccupied with the creature they had just faced down to make any attempt at conversation.

Jonathan bit into his nails, an old bad habit of his, Nancy clenched her jaw, also an old habit, while Steve's foot shook nervously, as his eyes roamed, wondering what the hell he was doing in the Byers war-torn living room.

Half an hour, an hour, two, three hours passed before they finally heard the crunch of tires on gravel. As one, they jumped to their feet, Steve not even knowing what they were waiting for.

The teenagers headed outside to find the Chief barreling towards them. He stopped short.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?!" he said to Nancy and Steve. They fumbled for words, taken aback.

"We…uh, we were helping," Nancy finally managed.

Hopper glanced at Jonathan for a fraction of a second. "Well, get going." He said quietly, flicking his thumb behind him.

"What…what happened?" Nancy whispered, barely audible.

"Gone." Hopper mouthed to her after making sure that Jonathan was not in view. "Just go."

Nancy clapped a hand to her mouth to prevent a gasp from slipping out. She looked at Jonathan, wondering what she should do, but as she moved towards him, Hopper literally put a hand out, half shoving, half holding her back.

"Go," he repeated, this time losing his patience.

Nancy followed Steve, who was already quite a distance from the house, but she kept looking over her shoulder, desperately wondering how Jonathan would manage.

Hopper turned to Jonathan and saw fear written all over his face. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders and spoke.

"Jonathan…there's no…easy way to tell you this…we were too late…Will…he's gone." Hopper's chest tightened at the look on Jonathan's face. Anyone could see that his world was crashing down and it was crashing down hard. He pulled away from the Chief's grip and stumbled back, looking away. His face was scrunched up, and his lower lip quivered, but he didn't cry.

"Hey, I…" Hopper didn't know what to say to him. "I want you to know that I'll be here for you guys." He managed to get out, immediately thinking how stupid it sounded. "I, uh, thought you should know before your mom came home."

Jonathan nodded. "Where is she?" it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

"At the station. I'm gonna bring her home."

Jonathan nodded again and looked down, this time unable to contain the tears, which spilled over. Hopper instinctively reached out a hand to comfort the boy, but this was not received well by Jonathan, who backed up further, a mixture of fear, anger, and grief on his face, before turning around and dashing into the house, leaving the door wide open.

Hopper hesitated and then followed Jonathan in. He walked cautiously around but found and heard no sign of him. One of the bedroom doors was closed and Hopper assumed it was Jonathan's. He decided not to push his luck and instead left the house, shutting the door behind him.

 _Jesus! That kid is not gonna be okay._ Hopper thought as he drove over to the police station, where he had left Joyce in Flo's care.

* * *

 

Jonathan couldn't breathe. Or think. Or feel. He sat on his bed, numbly looking around at his familiar walls, barely noticing the acrid stench of burning monster-flesh that crept into his room, through the crack between the door and the floor. Hopper's words swirled around in his head, but they meant nothing to him now. _Will…he's gone…we were too late…_ All just a jumble in his already messed up mind. He had a lot of practice in the feel-nothing mode that he'd fallen into. He'd go into it any time he was called a pervert, or a screw-up, or a bastard, or a dirt-bag, or a piece of white-trash. Any time he was shoved, punched, cuffed, or spit at. Any time he found his locker defaced or his car, spray-painted, with the vulgarest statements and depictions.

He was pretty much an expert at checking out, shutting down, feeling nothing. It was a little harder this time, though. Will was dead. Will, his one, and only friend, his little brother, his…everything. The person he'd reassured through his parents' ugly divorce. The person he'd helped through too many nightmares to count. The person he'd stay up watching movies and eating through bags of microwave popcorn with. The person who had made him a card every Father's Day, since the age of eight. The person who had hugged him and comforted him when he'd finally broken down a couple of years ago, after getting the shit beat out of him by a couple of older guys after school. The person who he hoped and prayed would have friends and be happy. The person he'd worked all his life to protect. The person who was now dead. His baby brother, barely twelve years old.

Jonathan clenched his fists. He was angry. Beyond angry, really. He wanted to hurt someone…something…anything. He wanted to destroy. To make someone feel the pain that was starting to consume him. He wanted…he didn't know what he wanted anymore. _Gone…dead…Will is gone…too late…we were too late…gone…_

Jonathan didn't hear the front door open. He didn't hear Joyce and Hopper walk in. He didn't hear his mom asking Hopper where he was. He didn't hear his door opening. He did feel his mom's arms wrap around him as she sat down beside him on the bed.

"Jonathan, baby. I'm here. I'm here for you." She whispered into his ear, her voice shaking.

He looked at her, and she could see his eyes visibly change from dead to broken. It was starting to sink in for him. Will was gone. Finished. Dead. He was never going to speak to him again. He was never going to take him and the boys to the movies again. He was never going to listen to their favorite songs together again. He was never going to make him breakfast again. He was never going to tousle his hair again. He was never going to see him smile again. The realization hit Jonathan like a ton of bricks and his face contorted in pain.

Joyce struggled to maintain her composure. One of her boys was dead and the other was crumbling before her eyes. _I have to be here for him, at least tonight. Will was everything to him._ She took his face in her hands. "Jonathan, honey. We'll make it through this, you hear me? We're gonna make it through this."

That's when he broke down. Jonathan fell into Joyce's embrace and sobbed. His tears were raw and bitter, each wracking breath and muffled cry was like a knife to Joyce's heart. She had never seen him so exposed, so defenseless, so laid bare. She held him closer to her, stroking his hair and patting his back. It was so easy to forget how young he was, given how much he did for the family. He was just sixteen, hardly more than a kid.

"It hurts so bad." Jonathan choked into her shoulder. "It hurts so f****** bad."

"I know," Joyce said wishing she could do something to help him. "I know…"

Jonathan's whole body shook and his tears soaked the shirt that Joyce wore. She pulled away from him so she could see his eyes; they were swollen and bloodshot. She kissed his forehead gently and put a hand on his cheek. "I love you, Jonathan. No matter what happens…no matter what. I love you more than you know and nothing will change that, okay?"

He nodded and fell back on her, eyes still streaming. Joyce stayed with him until he fell asleep, then she got up, covered him with a blanket and left the room quietly. She avoided looking down the hall, knowing full well what she'd see. The house was no longer the welcome place it was a week ago. It was cold, foreign, and far too quiet. Monsters had been in it. Monsters had destroyed it. It was no longer their home. Not without Will.

Joyce walked into the living room and jumped. "Hopper, what are you still doing here?" It was a good two hours since she'd come home.

He turned around from where he was sitting on the couch. "I'm not gonna leave you alone here tonight, Joyce." She looked away.

"How's Jonathan doing?"

Joyce shook her head. "Bad. He's…he's so broken."

"And how are you doing?"

She met his eyes and couldn't contain the tears anymore. "How do you manage, Jim? How?"

"I don't." he walked over to her and hugged her. "I don' t manage."

She clung to him for dear life and cried.

* * *

 

The funeral was held two days later. It was a small affair, even smaller than the first one had been. The Wheelers were there, as well as the Hendersons and Sinclairs. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin stood together, this time crying in earnest. They were in shock, just when they thought they had found Will, their hopes were dashed in the most brutal way and they lost not just him, but Eleven as well. Jennifer Hayes wasn't there. Neither was Lonnie, much to everyone's relief. Jonathan stood with his arm around Joyce, and they watched as the casket was lowered.

 _I wonder if there's a person in the world who buried their brother twice in four days?_ Jonathan thought grimly, his mind in a state of detachment.

Hopper was there too, standing at the back and smoking a cigarette. He hated weddings and funerals, and hardly ever attended any, but he felt like he had to be here. Flo kept giving him appraising looks during the service, shaking her head in disbelief. _Even at a funeral, he's smoking!_

It was agonizingly slow, but eventually, it did end. Everyone dispersed, giving Joyce a hug or a few kind words. Nancy approached Jonathan cautiously, uncertain about his state of mind.

She gave him a quick hug which he took emotionlessly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Nancy said, looking him in the eye, trying to convey how she really felt. He nodded, his face blank, and Nancy took that as a cue to move on.

Mike and the boys also came over and gave them both, really awkward hugs. Finally, after everyone else had left, Jonathan stood staring at the patch of dirt, underneath which lay his brother. He hadn't gone to see the body, knowing it would be too much, but now he wished he had. He was overcome by a sudden urge to dig up the casket and talk to Will. Shake him, hug him, scream at him, as if doing so would bring him back to life. But he didn't. Instead, he drove home to spend another night in the dark cloud that hung over the house.

* * *

 

The next month passed in a daze. In years to come, none of those involved would remember much of this period. Everyone was desperately trying to pick up the broken pieces of their once normal lives and deal with their losses. For Jonathan, the only thing that was real anymore was the dull ache in his chest. School was hazy at best, and he would skip half the time. Home was no better, and he would spend his days driving, trying to get away from the emptiness that was his life without Will. Nancy, too, was feeling the sharp pain of loss. School used to be enjoyable for her, but now it was just a reprieve from the loneliness that enveloped her at home…

* * *

 

Nancy woke up with a start. _What's new?_ She thought, sullenly as she turned on her lamp and got out of bed. Automatically, it seemed, she dressed and left the house with a flashlight, letting her feet lead her where they would. She found herself heading to the place that haunted her whenever she was alone. The place where the whole Upside Down shit had become all too real. It was windy and she took the icy gusts full to the face, letting the biting air numb her senses.

At some point, Nancy cleared the forest and stopped dead. Standing near a small lake was Jonathan, but that was hardly remarkable. What shook Nancy was the gun pressed to his forehead. A gun he was holding.

Almost in slow motion, Nancy realized what was going on. _He's committing suicide. He f****** plans on killing himself. No way in hell am I gonna-_

She saw his finger tightening over the trigger, ever so slowly. Nancy ran faster than she ever had and tackled him from the side. The gun went off but thankfully it didn't hit any of them. She wrestled with him for control of the weapon but he was too strong and she could tell that he would win. _Time to get dirty_. Nancy kicked him in the groin, causing him to slacken his grip on the weapon long enough for her to grab it. She scrambled up and flung the gun into the river, watching in satisfaction as it went under. Then she turned around to face Jonathan who was glaring at her, his face a mask of fury.

"What are you doing here?" he spat out.

"I went out for a walk. I couldn't sleep." Nancy answered defensively. "And a good thing I did, too."

He stared at her, his chest heaving. It was late-December and he wore nothing but a thin shirt and jeans.

Nancy took a step towards him. "Jonathan, I…" She reached out a hand to his arm but he shrank back.

"Don't touch me." He said viciously.

"Okay, fine," Nancy said, nodding. _Oh God, how do I deal with this?_ She hadn't spoken to him, since the funeral. She'd tried, but he always seemed to disappear whenever she attempted to approach him. "Can I at least talk to you?"

He looked away. "About what?" His tone was dull and his eyes stared off into the distance, unmoving.

"About what you just tried to do," Nancy answered, her chin jutting out as she looked up to him, a determined expression on her face.

"What's there to talk about?" He said, turning back to her. "You wanna give me the whole 'killing yourself isn't the answer…you can't feel the relief if you're dead…things will get better' routine?"

Nancy was silent, unsure how to proceed. "No. I…have you talked to anyone about…about Will?"

She could see him tense visibly and she realized just how thin and fragile his rough exterior was. How much he was aching inside.

He turned and started walking away from her. Nancy watched his hunched shoulders and bowed head and it caused a lump in her throat. She found herself yelling at his retreating figure, furious at him.

"What?! You're gonna go hang yourself in your room now or something like that, and let your mom find you in the morning?! You're gonna be a coward and-"

He spun around, his face burning with rage. "Coward! Is that what you think?! Do you have any idea…do you have any f****** clue, what this is like?! Do you have any idea what it's like seeing my…You think I'm a coward for wanting to end it?! F*** you, Nancy! I thought you...I thought you of all people would get it."

"That's not what I meant," Nancy said calmly, taking a step forward. "I don't think you're a coward for that." She could see him look at her, a little surprised. _Good, he's listening._

"Heck, I think I would've done it already if I was in your position." Nancy continued, holding his gaze. "No. I meant about you refusing to talk. Refusing to get any help. Refusing to see me and anyone else who actually cares. It's your life. I can't really stop you if you want to end it," her voice was shaking now. "But I sure as hell am not gonna stand by and let you do it. I'm not gonna act like everything is okay with you. You're f***** hurting, okay? You lost your brother! And I can't fathom what it's like, but please, please, please, let me help if I can." She finished off, tears running down her cheeks.

He stared at her, most of the anger gone. But what replaced it was a lot harder to take. Sadness, grief, despair… whatever you wanted to call it, it cut straight to Nancy's heart.

"There's nothing you can do." He said shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

Nancy pressed her lips together to prevent a sob from escaping. That was the old Jonathan, the one who apologized to people for things that they should be apologizing to him for. The one she cared a whole lot about and had almost lost tonight. The one whose every day was a living hell, and a struggle to stay alive.

"Can I give you a hug, at least?" She asked, her voice hoarse from crying and it shook. She knew at this point the hug would be more for herself than for him.

He seemed to consider this for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug. She took it as a yes.

Nancy walked over to Jonathan and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He just stood there, not quite frozen, but stoically, as though he was taking a punishment. She sobbed, her head pressed against his cheek, hands clasping and unclasping on his back.

"It hurts so much seeing you like this. I care about you, Jonathan," she whispered into his ear. She felt him stiffen. "Yeah, I do. Don't act like you don't know it. I…" Nancy let go and looked up at him. She put a hand on the side of his face and looked into his eyes.

"Jonathan…please…please get help." She was begging him now.

He looked away, not able to meet her beseeching eyes.

"Are you gonna try it again?" Nancy asked him, afraid of the answer.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I…I can't really say. Probably."

She looked at him, his body language saying it all. His head was down, his back stooped, and his hands were fidgeting. "Do you wish that I hadn't stopped you; that you'd done it?"

He looked at her this time. "No." he breathed, barely audible.

"But you'll do it again?"

No answer. They started walking together, wordlessly. It was freezing but Jonathan barely shivered, he was too numb already. They reached his house and Nancy turned to face him.

"Jonathan…I…just make it through the night. Just do that. Do it next week, do it next month, but make it through tonight."

He glanced at her. "The old 'one day at a time' cliché, really?

"Yeah, really," Nancy said, daring him to challenge her. "If it works..."

He turned away and walked to the door.

Nancy stared at his back, wondering what to do next. Whatever it was, she knew she wasn't going home. She'd hide out in the trees if she had to; she wasn't leaving him alone tonight. Just as she was about to put on a show of leaving, he turned around, the door already open.

Jonathan's face was unreadable. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before looking her straight in the eye. "Can you…can you stay?" He clamped his mouth shut afterward as though he'd let a secret slip but she could see the pleading in his eyes.

Nancy felt like she'd scored a victory. "Yeah, of course." She walked up to him and they entered the house. She paused just over the threshold. She hadn't been in the house since The Night. The letters were still there, of course, they were, and the wallpaper had large rips running down the length of the room. There were half-empty bottles lying on the table, and scraps of paper littered the floor. It looked much like it had the night that everything happened. Then Nancy realized what was really wrong, the house was freezing.

"Why is it-" she began but quickly shut up. _Obviously, the heating's been cut off. Goddamnit._

"What?" Jonathan asked, turning back for a moment.

"Nothing," Nancy said, trying to change the subject. "Is your mom home?"

A shadow passed across his already downcast face. "No."

Nancy bit her tongue. _Shit! What is there to say that's not horribly painful to him?_

He walked to his room, carefully avoiding looking down the hallway, where Will's empty room was situated. Nancy followed, not too sure about what he wanted her to do. She paused at the door. Whereas the rest of the house was an absolute mess, his room was orderly, if a bit cramped. He sat down on a chair at his desk facing her. She shut the door and sat down on his bed, facing him.

He was silent and her eyes drifted around the room, taking everything in. There was his Evil Dead poster, faded and worn, and a stack of t-shirts dumped on the drawers beside his bed. His cassette player sat on his shelves, unplugged, with a few tapes stacked beside it. There was a pile of pictures, all of various landscapes, lying on his desk, and Nancy felt a pang remembering that awful moment when Steve had dropped his camera. She looked around desperately for something that wouldn't make her feel like crying and came upon more pictures lying on his night table. She picked them up and began sifting through them only to put them back down again. They were all family pictures and they made her chest tighten.

Nancy reached out, took Jonathan's hand and squeezed. The latter did not pull away, in fact, he squeezed her hand back. She could feel the bones in his hand and suddenly became aware of how thin he was.

"Have you been eating?"

He looked down and shook his head.

"Jonathan…when was the last time you spoke to someone?"

He paused, his head still down, and then looked up. Nancy's breath caught when she saw that his eyes were glistening. "Probably about three days." He muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Nancy couldn't stop a whimper from escaping her mouth. "Three days, Jonathan? Three days?!"

She looked into his eyes and could see that he was close to breaking. "Come here." She said, patting the space beside her on his bed.

A spark of fear flashed in his eyes but disappeared a moment later. He got up and sat down beside her, their legs almost-but-not-quite touching.

Jonathan caught sight of the top picture in the stack on his night table and picked it up. It was of Will and Joyce, a couple of years back at Will's Elementary School graduation. He crumpled it in his hand and turned to Nancy.

"Never even gonna finish Middle School."

"Hey," Nancy said, grabbing his hand and unclenching it. She took the picture and smoothed it out. Then she put it back in Jonathan's hand and looked him directly in the eye. "One day you'll be able to look at this and smile instead of cry." She said gently.

Jonathan lower lip quivered dangerously for a few moments and then the tears started falling, hot and thick. Nancy was about to put her arms around him, but before she could, he laid his head down on her shoulder. She enfolded him in a hug and held him as he shook. A minute passed and then two. Twenty minutes later and still, he sobbed as hard as ever. Nancy was whispering stuff to him, though, if you asked her afterward, she wouldn't have been able to tell you what they were.

He pulled away eventually, still crying, and looked down at the creased picture in his hand. "You know, I always thought that Lonnie was rock bottom for us. I was wrong." He said it with a strangled laugh that was hard to listen to.

He turned to her. "Nancy, I really have-" But he was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Jonathan jumped up. "Stay here." He muttered to her, but she followed him anyway.

They walked out of the room and looked down the hallway at the front door. It was Joyce and she was clearly drunk. Nancy looked at Jonathan, wondering if she should leave, and watched as he transformed into guardian mode. He leaned his head back for a moment and took a few deep breaths, steadying himself. Then he rubbed his eyes, wiping away all the residual tears. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked over to his mom.

"Hi, mom." His voice was low and soothing, as he put an arm around her.

"Jonathan…Jonathan…" she gasped as she buried her face in his shoulder. Nancy felt like she was intruding on an intensely private moment, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from Jonathan. She'd just gotten a glimpse into what was going on inside of him, and now, seeing him instantly go from a vulnerable kid to Joyce's rock, made her realize just how strong he was.

"He's gone! Gone! My baby, gone, Jonathan…dead…"

"I know, mom. I know." He put his other hand around her, and she was now sobbing into his chest. Jonathan led her to her room and Nancy shrank back as they passed.

"What do I even do…It never ends…Never get's easier…" Joyce was inconsolable.

"I know, mom. It'll be better in the morning. It'll be okay. You should get some sleep."

They disappeared into Joyce's room and Nancy stood there, shaken. She could hear the sobs, and Jonathan's calming voice, but she couldn't make out what was said. She didn't know how many minutes passed as she stood there, shaken, when Jonathan re-emerged, closing the door gently behind him. He glanced at her and headed into the kitchen where he began fumbling around, opening and slamming cabinets. Nancy followed him in, wondering what his state of mind would be like now.

"You know what the worst part is?" he said suddenly, half to her and half to himself. "It's the lying. It's not gonna be better in the morning. She's never gonna be okay."

She had no idea what to say. It was taking all she had not to burst out crying on the spot. Nancy could see him, in front of her eyes, carefully donning layer upon layer of coldness and anger, and it scared her. She didn't blame him for a second though. It was his only way of coping.

Jonathan continued talking as he got out a bottle of pancake mix and started frying some batter. "She was, uh…she was present for the first few days, but since then…just drowns herself in booze…makes her worse, but she can't remember it in the morning."

When he had a decent stack, he carried the plate to the table and produced a bottle of syrup, which he opened and squirted a nice helping of, over the pancakes.

"Help yourself." He said, taking one onto a plate. She took one and ate it, more to have something to do than because of any hunger.

He took a couple of bites and then dumped his plate in the garbage, unable to stomach it. It was now past three.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" Jonathan asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Nancy had no idea what he was talking about.

"You said you took a walk because you couldn't sleep."

"Oh. It's nothing." She said. "Just, you know, flashbacks." She didn't want his sympathy, in fact, she was disgusted for even voicing her problems when she saw what he was dealing with.

"Yeah, I get you. Same thing here. I barely sleep anymore." Jonathan was saying. "Well, it's late. You should probably get home. I'll drive you if you need."

"I…I can't leave you alone. Not now." She whispered, afraid to look at him.

"It's fine. You can go."

But the waver in his voice told her he was definitely not fine. "Can we just…I don't know…watch a movie or something?" she burst out.

"Okay." He said, after a long pause. They moved to the living room and sat down on the couch, careful not to touch each other. Jonathan turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, finally settling on one, twenty minutes into _Wild in the Country_.

"You liked Elvis?" she asked immediately.

"Yeah." He answered, not looking at her. "Still do."

Nancy nodded to herself, trying not to look around the room, specifically the letters on the wall. She got up and shut off the lamp so that it was just the TV giving off light. Nancy sat back down on the couch, this time a little closer to him. He was staring straight ahead and she could tell that he wasn't seeing the movie at all, that his mind was far away. He shivered and she put an arm around his thin frame, causing him to glance at her briefly before quickly snapping his head back to the screen.

Eventually, he fell asleep, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. Nancy pried the remote out of his hand and shut the TV off. She didn't know how long she sat staring at him, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from his sleeping face. It was peaceful and relaxed, and she wished he could stay that way, that there was something, anything, she could do to help him. She got up, taking care not to wake him, and got his blanket from his bed. After spreading it over him, Nancy stood there watching him for another few minutes. Finally, she scrawled a hasty note and left it on his bed. It read just eight words. **Jonathan-anything, anytime, please call me. Love, Nancy.**

She walked back into the living room and took one final glance around. Nancy leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the forehead, her hair brushing his cheeks, before leaving the house and walking home, finally succumbing to tears.

* * *

 

A week passed. Nancy went out to Jonathan every day to try to talk to him, but either he wasn't home, or he was ignoring her. He'd stopped coming to school and she wondered what he was up to all day. She found that out fairly quickly when she went to buy Mike a new console at the local RadioShack. He nodded at her from behind the counter when she went to pay.

"What are you doing here?" Nancy asked, in an almost accusatory tone.

"Working." One or two-word answers were his forte.

"Where have you been the last week? Because I've tried your place every day."

He just shrugged. "What's that supposed to mean?" Nancy said, realizing how harsh she sounded, but not caring.

"That's $108.98," was his answer. Nancy paid while glaring at him. Then she spun around to leave, annoyed at his behavior. She'd barely taken a step when he called her name. It was tentatively, and when she turned around, she could tell that he wished he hadn't.

"Yeah?"

Jonathan glanced around. There were a couple of people in the store, but they looked pretty occupied.

"Um, come here." He said, leading her into the back of the store, where the inventory was kept. Nancy followed, her curiosity building.

Jonathan turned to face her, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh…I never thanked you for that night.

She immediately started shaking her head. "No. Jonathan, no. I don't want to hear it."

"No, listen to me," he said, grabbing her arms and holding her in place. "You saved my life, okay? Thank you for that. I mean it. And you're right, I am a coward. I'm sorry for what I said to you then, I…I didn't…I wasn't thinking straight, and I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did, Jonathan, and you had every right to. I don't blame you for a second." Nancy said, her tone rising. _He was so annoying sometimes, with all his apologies_. "And you're not a coward, I take that back." She wondered if it was okay to mention what had happened that night. Not knowing, she decided to go for it. "You know, the way you…the way you looked after your mom…especially in the state that you were in. I don't know anyone who could've done that, really. That takes…that takes strength."

He bit his lip and looked down, to where her hand had reached for his. Nancy lifted his chin with her other hand, feeling the roughness of his skin, spread tightly over his jaw, and gazed at him for a while. A lot of things went unsaid, in that minute that they stood there staring at each other. But, soon enough, the spell was broken; Nancy turned away and left and Jonathan returned to his post, and they both pretended as though nothing had just transpired between them.

* * *

 

It happened the next night. She went over to his place in the evening, determined to speak to him again. To force something out of him. Maybe to go somewhere. Maybe to get a smile out of him. Maybe to make him forget his pain for a little bit. But when she knocked, she was in for a surprise. The door swung open right away, and Joyce looked at her.

"Oh, um, is Jonathan here?" Nancy muttered.

Joyce just shook her head.

"Okay, uh, never mind, then." She quickly hurried away. _Huh, where the hell is he now?_ She was determined to find him. His car wasn't in the drive, so she figured he must be out somewhere. Nancy headed into town and tried everywhere. The theater, where she knew he worked. The park, where she knew he often went. The various eateries and diners, that she knew he never stepped into…She even tried the bar, on the slight chance that he'd decided to drown his troubles, though it was so not like him. Finally, defeated, she decided to check back at the house again, on the chance that he'd come home.

Joyce answered again, a little drunker, and told her that no, Jonathan was not home, and asked if she planned on checking in every hour.

Nancy was about to head home when it hit her. _Why the heck didn't I check here first_? She dashed into the nearby forest and began calling his name. She started panicking and ran blindly, finally bursting into the same clearing that she'd found him in last time.

"NO! No, no, no!"

He was lying sprawled out on his back, a gun inches away from his hand, and the snow that he lay in was stained red with blood. Nancy ran over and knelt beside him. There was an ugly, gaping hole in his forehead, with dried blood caked all over it, down the side of his face, and in his hair.

"Jonathan…Jonathan, please…please…please talk to me…" Nancy whimpered, checking for a pulse. In the back of her head, she knew it was useless. She knew that he was dead, but she refused to believe it. She desperately felt his heart, his neck, his temple. There was nothing. He was ice-cold, lifeless, and stiff.

"No, no, no! Jonathan, no! You can't do this to me! Please! You're not dead. You're not! Stop it! Please, please…" Nancy knew she was muttering gibberish. Her head spun, and she was gasping for breath. Suddenly, she felt hot, like she couldn't get enough air, and she ripped off her coat.

His blank eyes stared at her, and she lost it. Nancy's face fell into his chest as she collapsed, wrapping her arms around his body, crying, shaking, and pleading. The guilt set in after a few minutes. _I should have come here first. I could've prevented it. I should have done more. I should've just grabbed him and never let go. I should've told someone_ …

Nancy's whole body ached, and she continued crying. It was soothing, in a way. She cried for Jonathan, but also for Barb, and Will, and Eleven, and then for Mike, and the boys, and Joyce. What must have been hours, passed, and still, she held onto him and sobbed, unable to let go. She felt his face and saw the tears that had frozen on his cheeks. Her hands shook as she searched his pockets, and she pulled out a piece of paper. Tears blurred Nancy's vision, as she read it and cried harder. It wasn't what she'd thought it was. It was the note she'd left him the week before, crumpled and worn.

"Why didn't you? Why didn't you call me?" she wept, her tears splashing down on his face. It made her hurt even more, knowing he was thinking about her, wondering if she could help, and then deciding to do it anyway. It made her feel responsible, and it sent her into an even more anguished state, causing her to fall back down on him, fatigued, broken, and crying bitterly.

Hours passed before she felt strong but gentle hands lift her off Jonathan's body. She looked up, in a daze, and saw Hopper's face, looking at her in pity.

"He's dead," she whispered, unnecessarily. "He killed himself and it's my fault."

"Your fault?" he said sharply, his eyes narrowing. _Could she actually have something to do with this?_

Nancy nodded vigorously. "I should have done something…He tried last week too…I didn't say anything…and now…"

Hopper leaned down so that his face was just inches away from hers, and she could see the tears in his eyes. "This is not your fault. Okay? This is not your fault." The second time, he said it more forcefully, gripping her shoulders. She shook her head, unable to get any words out.

He let go of her and knelt down beside Jonathan. She could see him run a shaky hand over his face, lingering over the bullet hole. He took a deep breath and then got up, pulling out a radio as he did so.

"Cal, you there?" His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat.

"Yeah…what do you got?" came the grainy response.

"I…I found them both. You better get over here. We're at the lake, about two miles north of Montview."

"Copy…we're on our way."

He looked back down at Jonathan and put a hand over his face, pinching his eyes and forehead. "Oh, f***…Goddammit…"

Hopper turned to her. "When'd you find him?"

"I don't know," she whispered, looking around. The sky was getting light and she realized that her parents (well, her mom at least) must've been going crazy. "Sometime last night, before twelve for sure."

"You've been out here since twelve? Jesus!" He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, only just noticing how she shivered. Then, they both turned to stare at Jonathan again.

Twenty minutes later, Callaghan and Powell burst out of the trees, stopping dead at the sight.

"Take care of him, I'm gonna take Nancy home, alright?" Hopper said, walking over to them.

They nodded, shocked. Hopper led Nancy through the forest to where his car was parked. They both got in, and Hopper leaned back against the headrest, breathing heavily. Then he grabbed the radio again.

"Hey, Cal."

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Um…Let me tell Joyce, okay? Make sure she doesn't hear about it. Heck, make sure no one does."

"Roger."

Hopper dropped the radio between the seats and started the car. They drove over to the Wheeler household, where he stopped the car and turned to Nancy who was crying silently.

"Hey, are you gonna be okay?"

She looked over at him and nodded. Hopper opened the door, helped her out, and put an arm around her. He led her up the walkway and rang the bell. The door opened immediately, and Karen walked out.

"Oh, thank goodness! Oh, Nancy, you had us…what's wrong?" she asked Hopper, when Nancy fell into her arms, crying.

Hopper looked down and took a deep breath. "She'll tell you."

"Oh…okay…wait! Did something happen to her?" Karen asked, her mind going wild.

"No, no, no…don't worry…nothing like that." Hopper said, quickly. He paused for a moment, opened his mouth, closed it, and left.

Karen led her daughter into the house, where Ted and Mike were sitting on the couch. They jumped up when they saw her.

"What happened?" Mike asked right away.

Karen shrugged. "I don't know. Honey, what's wrong?" She sat Nancy down on a chair and brought her a glass of water. "Talk to me, Nancy. What happened?"

Nancy gulped down the water. "Jonathan," she managed to gasp out finally. "He's…he's gone."

"He disappeared? Did the monster get him?" Mike asked, wide-eyed.

Nancy shook her head, bitterly. "He's gone…dead."

They all went quiet, and Karen clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry. That's awful. How…what happened?"

Nancy looked up at her, her eyes red and brimming with tears. "He shot himself," she whispered.

"Oh my God…" Karen breathed, enfolding Nancy in a hug. Mike looked at them for a moment before he spun around and raced upstairs, slamming the door hard behind him. He collapsed on his bed and stared up at the underside of the top bunk, thinking about Will, and Eleven.

* * *

 

Nancy's hands shook as she tried to fasten her dress, to the point where she was unable to do it. Karen came in and finished it up for her.

"Are you sure you want to go, honey? Everyone would understand if…"

"I'm going." Her voice was scratchy due to disuse. She stared into the mirror for a couple of minutes, not actually seeing herself. Her mind was far away, on the night that she'd spent with him, a few days back. _What could I have done?_ The thought hadn't left her mind since she'd found his body. It consumed her, and took over her head, to the point where everywhere she went, she was tossing around alternative scenarios in her head, ones in which Jonathan was not dead. Deppressed? Hopeless? Maybe. But alive.

"Nancy. Time to go." It was Mike. He was wearing a suit once again. His eyes were bloodshot and she knew he felt this nearly as much as she did. Nancy walked by him, unable to get any comforting words out. He was hurting. It was almost like a game at this point. See who could score the most tragedy points. Mike was winning, she knew. He had lost Eleven, Will, and to a lesser extent, Jonathan. But his death was impactful in a different way. He was the first hammer to fall due to all the others and they wondered; _if he could fall, then who would be next?_

She, on the other hand, had two strikes. Barb, her best friend, and Jonathan, her…well, her _something_. It had still been too early to figure out what they actually were. _And now we'll never find out what we could have been._

Nancy got into the car and sat down in the backseat. Mike followed her in, wordlessly. He put his arm around her suddenly, nearly bringing her to tears. But, she held back and instead, put her hand up to cover his. They didn't even look at each other.

They arrived at the cemetery and parked. Nancy choked back more tears when she saw how few cars there were. _No one f****** cares!_ It infuriated her, that a boy could hurt so bad to the point of taking his life, and no one even bothered to show up. She wished…oh, how she wished that she could speak to him one last time. Tell him how it didn't matter what everyone thought. How he was right; people were awful and that-

She stifled a sob. She'd just spotted Joyce. Hopper was leading her to a seat and Nancy could see his tear-streaked face and shaking hands.

Nancy collapsed in a chair and buried her face in her hands. She couldn't stand to see any of it. To see the despair and destruction that the lab had caused. The ceremony began, but Nancy heard none of it. She kept seeing his face that night that they'd fought the monster. He'd said her name, right before Steve came. She thought he'd sounded scared. _What did you want to say, Jonathan?_ She directed the question heavenward, knowing he was up there, somewhere, and wondering if he could hear and see her. If there was a heaven and hell, she knew where he was.

 _That's not really good enough for him. He deserves better than your average_. _He was different. He wasn't even just a good guy, he was beyond that._ Nancy realized with horror that she was referring to him in the past tense. _Shit!_

"-no one is ever truly gone…" the pastor was droning.

Nancy snorted in disgust. _Someone should give him a proper speech, he deserves that much_. _Who's going to, though? No one knows him, besides for his Mom and brother. One of them's gone and the other one…_ Nancy looked over at Joyce, who was buried in Hopper's burly arms, whereas at Will's funeral she was stoic, now she was inconsolable.

"-in your name we pray, amen." The pastor finished off, somberly. Nancy muttered an irritable 'amen' and looked over to the casket. Jonathan's casket. They were about to lower him into the grave. It was too much. She found her feet moving on their own, found her mouth talking to the pastor.

"Can I say something?"

The pastor looked over at Joyce and Hopper, who nodded.

"Of course, but keep it short. The Chief asked for it not to drag out."

Nancy nodded, her vision blurred. _Why am I doing this? What the hell am I gonna say?_ She berated herself. Then another voice in her head kicked in. _He deserves more than the pre-packaged funeral sermon. He deserves to actually be remembered._

She stepped up to the podium and looked around. She knew everyone here. Mike gave her a weak smile, from where he was sitting beside Lucas, which she returned, just barely. _His f****** dad's not even here_! She realized, struggling to contain her anger.

Nancy took a deep breath and began talking. "I don't know Jonathan very well. I only hung out with him for about a week, the week Will disappeared." _Bad start, Nancy, what are you doing?!_ "Um, but from the bit that I saw of him, I could tell that he was special, and I wish I'd known him for longer."

Her vision was blurring again, she couldn't see faces anymore, so she looked up at the sky and continued. "He dealt with more shit than anyone should have to." Nancy could hear a gasp at her language, but she didn't care. "And I was a part of it. At school…he was always harassed for being quiet, for being nice, for being different, for being…himself. He wasn't going to pretend to be someone he wasn't just to impress people. He had to take the worst insults, and a few fists, for years, and I stood by and watched, and did nothing. And, I'm embarrassed to say, I probably laughed along at some of the sickening things that were said about him." The tears started falling freely, but Nancy pushed on. "I have no idea how he kept his head up for all those years, how he remained the gentle, kind, and sensitive person that he was, but he did. Somehow, someway, he didn't become hard and bitter."

She looked around at the group of people assembled, and saw a few of them nod approvingly. "He…he saved my life last month." She knew she was treading on thin ice here, she could see Hopper giving her a warning look. "I…I was scared to death, and he stayed with me, and helped me out. Even while his brother was missing, his first thought was to make sure that I was okay."

"Last week, I spent some time with him. He, uh, he wasn't doing well. He was hurting real bad. But even then, he was still thinking of others before him. That's the kind of person he was. I know I'm really not doing him justice. I just wish I'd gotten to know him more." She looked over at Jonathan's casket and choked back tears. "He…he deserved better than this…he…I'm sorry." The tears had spilled over. "I'm…I'm gonna miss him, and anyone who knew him will miss him." She looked down and struggled to steady herself.

"Rest in peace, Jonathan," It came out as a rasping whisper. She looked up and saw Mike making his way over to her. He put an arm around his sister's shaking back and spoke into the mic.

"He was a quiet guy," Mike started, blushing deeply. "But he...you know I never heard him say a bad word about anyone." The thought had just occurred to him and it sprang out of his mouth. "But, he would do anything for Will and by extension, us. He would take us wherever we wanted to go, he would help us out with all of our ridiculous projects. Whenever we stayed over by Will, he would make us breakfast and get us some R-rated movies." There was a laugh at this. "He, uh, he was a good guy. I can't claim to know much about him, he was my friend's older brother, but I know he wasn't like most older brothers."

Mike stepped down, embarrassed, but Joyce looked up and smiled at the two of them. Nancy smiled back weakly, trying to control her tears, as they made their way back to their seats.

"Proud of you two," Karen whispered to them as they sat down. "That was nice."

The service continued and Jonathan was buried. They scattered some dirt over the casket. They threw flowers. They went through all the motions, and then it was over. They went home and continued on with their Upside-Down lives.

When they got home, Nancy disappeared into her room, and collapsed on her bed. She lay there for hours, staring at the pictures on her corkboard, wondering what the point of it all was. _What's it all for? You live, you die. Either you die young, or you die old. Maybe you find someone you love, maybe you don't. Maybe you have kids, maybe you don't. Either you're happy, or you're not. Why does it matter, in the end? What's the point? What is the whole damn point?_

**The End…**

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like if Will had died then Jonathan would not have managed, so this was my take on it. What do you think?


End file.
